


Hanging Odes Upon Hawthorns

by WhiteravenGreywolf



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Fluff, Like super fluff, Or Is It?, Poetry, Sappy love poems, Unrequited Love, Why Did I Write This?, cotton candy levels of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23459260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteravenGreywolf/pseuds/WhiteravenGreywolf
Summary: Misty is still trying to deal with the aftermath of her time in Hell. She decides to put her feelings into words and writes poems. Until she realizes that she's been inadvertadly writing love poems about Cordelia...
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 42
Kudos: 58





	1. Sunflower

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I feel like I should apologize for writing this story? It did not turn out as I expected it to, even though I followed the plans I had made for it. I still think it's worth posting, a few of the poems turned out pretty nicely. Disclaimer, by the way, I'm not a poet, I had never written poetry until the beginning of this semester when I started taking a poetry class, and I am certainly not a good love poet. I think a few of those poems are sappy, Valentine card worthy, but not much more.  
> I will be posting a chapter every day. They are pretty short, I'm sorry. There is no reason for this story to exist, other than the fact I was out of idea and I found a poetry prompt on Tumblr and I will never trust Tumblr prompts ever again.  
> Anyway, beside all that, I still hope you'll enjoy this story!

Misty didn't like shrinks. Cordelia had been pushing her to go see someone that could help her process her time in Hell, but really, no one could ever help her with that. She'd talked about it with Cordelia, often, and with the other girls, sometimes, and that seemed enough for her. She didn't seem to recuperate as quickly as Madison had, but it didn't matter, because they weren't the same. So what if her nightmares persisted, what if she was still scared to use her powers sometimes? Eventually, she would get better, and not because some glasses-wearing person in a leather chair had psychoanalyzed her.

  
Once again, the solution came from her hero. Stevie wrote songs about her problems, and they were all great songs, so Misty decided to do the same. She borrowed a notepad from Cordelia's office, a few pencils, an eraser, and she hid in the greenhouse to write her masterpiece in peace. Then after a few hours of struggles, she realized writing songs when you knew nothing about music was hard. Very hard. None of the words seemed to work like she wanted them to. Every time some sort of music would come to her, it disappeared with the next thought, and she had no way of writing it down.

  
She was ready to give up when Cordelia gave her another idea. Why not write poems? Misty liked the idea, and she was right back to work, alone in the greenhouse, surrounded by the plants which seemed to whisper the words to her ears.

_Sunflower, I've missed your color._   
_The sun doesn't shine as brightly_   
_when you're not smiling._   
_The blond of your petals_   
_is a goddess' crown._   
_It'd like to touch it,_   
_but I'm afraid you'll stop smiling_   
_if I do._

Misty paused, staring at the flower in the pot beside her. She gently passed her fingers over the soft petals of the large sunflower. The flower didn't react in any way. Misty looked back at the page in front of her, somehow stained with dirt even though she had washed her hands after watering the plants. What else could she add?

_The days weren't the same without you._   
_They were endless, dark, sad._   
_I couldn't remember you._   
_But you shone your light on me,_   
_and suddenly the bad stuffs are gone._

Misty paused with a frown. 'Bad stuffs' didn't sound very good for a poem. She looked back at the flower, then at her page. She rubbed her eraser over the last line swiftly.

_And suddenly the night was gone._   
_Please never leave me again,_   
_keep the night away,_   
_only let your light in._   
_Make my life an endless day._

Satisfied with her poem, Misty read through it again. She glanced at the sunflower beside her. Who would have thought she had so much to say about a single flower? Granted it was a beautiful flower. Misty looked around her, at all the plants, and wondered what she could say about all of the others.


	2. Tulip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty tries not to write a poem about Cordelia

Misty contemplated the tulip in front of her, alone in its little flowerpot. The inside of its petal was a bright yellow, which seemed to overflow out of the cup, like paint, staining part of the red on the outside of the petals. Misty couldn't wait until it grew stronger, so they could plant it in the garden with the others. Her eyes trailed down the pale green stem, the long leaves, and all the way to the notepad in front of her. She bit her lower lip.

  
Misty had a problem. She had been writing poems for about a week now. She'd written about roses and irises and thymes and ferns. Except that she hadn't. She'd read them, again and again, feeling proud of her work, until she'd realized something. She hadn't been talking about flowers at all. She had been so blind that she hadn't realized how she'd been talking about Cordelia this entire time. She could blame the flowers who were terrible muses, but really, it was her heart's fault. It was too full of feelings, and they had just spilled onto the pages uncontrollably.

  
So this time, she would control herself. She would write only about the flower, and not about Cordelia because she had no right to write poems about the older woman, especially poems that sounded so much like love poems.

  
Misty's eyes fell back on the flower. She stared at it longly, then picked up her pencil, and started scribbling.

_One tulip is unlike its sisters,_   
_All equal yet unique._   
_This one is more vibrant,_   
_Life clings to its smile_   
_like the sun to its petals._   
_Staring too long makes her blush,_   
_turns her pink to red,_   
_her yellow to orange._   
_This one is special to me._   
_From afar, there's only her._   
_From up close, I don't dare look._

Misty frowned as she paused, reading her words again. She let out a groan when she realized some of the words or sentences may suggest yet another love poem. She picked up her eraser with frustration. The eraser hung over the page, completely still for a long minute. Misty pursed her lips. It sounded really good, even if it had escaped her control once again. She didn't have the heart to erase it. She placed the eraser back on the table, picked up her pencil, and drew a sharp, thin line over the entire poem. It signaled that this poem was not good and not to be read ever again, at least she hoped.

  
She picked up her pencil once again and chewed on the end of it as she resumed her staring at the flower. The next wave of inspiration to hit her would be better, and not about Cordelia, at least she hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I think I've had another idea for a foxxay story, but unfortunately I won't be able to write much this weekend, because I have "A Room with a View" to read for college, and until they've officially announced that finals are canceled (crossing my fingers really hard) I have to prepare for them. So we'll see how this unfolds.  
> Anyway, I will see you tomorrow for another chapter!


	3. Forget-Me-Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty goes to the park to find her inspiration again.

Misty let out a sigh, staring at the bush of flowers in front of her. She'd decided to take a break from the academy. In truth, Cordelia thought she spent a bit too much time alone in the greenhouse, even if she was doing something as harmless and even beneficial as looking at flowers and writing poetry. So, Cordelia had suggested a trip to the park, so the girls could relax a bit, and Misty could breathe some fresh air around the most amount of nature New Orleans had to offer.

  
Some of the girls had organized some sort of game a few feet away, others were walking around the park in small groups, talking. Cordelia was reclined in the grass, reading a book. Misty was seating a few feet away, having abandoned her shoes with Cordelia. She'd found a little bush of blue flowers they didn't have in the greenhouse, which she thought was a great opportunity to write about them, and only them, not the blonde witch laying down behind her.

  
"Myosotis," Zoe said beside her, from her position on the bench, her phone in one hand as she was probably checking the Internet. "more commonly called Forget-Me-Nots."

  
Madison sat up from her reclined position to stare at the little blue flowers.

  
"That's what Forget-Me-Nots are?"

  
"Yeah, what did you think they were?"

  
"I don't know. Seeing the name, I thought they were a bit...you know... bigger? Easier to tie into a bouquet?"

  
Zoe shrugged her comment off.

  
Misty continued to stare at the bushes. She played with her pencil, rolling it between her fingers as she thought.

  
"Are you ever gonna let us read your stuff or not?" Madison asked.

  
Misty glared at her, and Madison raised her hands in surrender.

  
"Fine. I'm gonna go buy a coke."

  
She pushed herself off the bench and walked away, sending one last glance at Misty. After making sure no one else was staring at her, Misty looked down at the pristine page of her notepad, separated into neat lines. If they were called forget-me-nots then she had to write a love poem, she reasoned. It would be a disgrace not to do it. And if she wrote about Cordelia without looking at her, no one would suspect a thing. Misty glanced back at the older witch who was still laying on her belly in the grass, her book in front of her, head resting on her hands.

  
Misty took a deep breath and placed the pencil lead on the piece of paper.

_Forget me for an afternoon,_   
_not for a day._   
_Forget me when I'm beside you,_   
_not when I'm out of sight._   
_Remember that the sky is blue,_   
_like my eyes_   
_And I will never forget,_   
_the first time I saw you._   
_Let the memories of me,_   
_like tiny blue flowers,_   
_flourish in your mind when I'm away,_   
_And I promise never to forget_   
_your smile, your eyes,_   
_and the way you say my name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This was one of my favorite poems from this story.   
> Remember that idea for a foxxay story I told you about yesterday? So I planned it all this morning and it is going to be amazing, dare I say even better than To Think of Time, though I don't want to hype myself too much. Still can't write today, not until I'm done with A Room with a View anyway (granted it is more enjoyable than I thought it would be, but I'd rather be writing some good wlw story than reading this heterofakeness)  
> Anyway, that's all for me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I will see you tomorrow for the next one!


	4. Peony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Misty is happy to have found her inspiration again, she's also worried that some people might read her poems and figure out that they are not about flowers...

Misty stood up from her usual stool in the greenhouse and stretched her back, holding her arms high above her head. Her fingers brushed the flowerpots hung on the ceiling, and she felt her back pop into place again. She let her arms fall back. She needed to take a little break. She'd been writing quite a bit this afternoon. It was incredible how quickly she could write when she wasn't fighting with herself. So what if most of her poems were about Cordelia? No one would ever see them anyway.

  
Misty walked out of the greenhouse, leaving her notepad and pencils on the table. No one ever came in anyway, especially when Stevie was blasting. They knew it was her space, and if they wanted some time in the greenhouse they would have to come back later. She was recovering from years spent in hell, she had every right to be selfish like that.

  
When Misty entered the kitchen, she found a few of the girls coming and going, getting a snack for themselves. Thankfully, there were still a few cookies on the plates. She picked up one and stuffed it in her mouth swiftly.

  
"Hey, Misty!"

  
She looked over at the table where Queenie and Madison were seating, probably talking about one thing or another. She approached, chewing furiously her mouthful of cookie.

  
"What are you gonna do with all those poems?"

  
Misty shrugged. She swallowed and replied:

  
"Nothin'."

  
Madison rolled her eyes.

  
"Seriously? You've been writing so much you probably have a few hundred by now. I can find you a guy to publish them."

  
Misty frowned.

  
"What for?"

  
"Er... to make money? Granted I don't really know how well this shit sells, but I'm sure there are people out there who are into soft sapphic poetry."

  
Misty almost chocked on her next mouthful of cookie.

  
"What?" she squealed, trying to chew and speak at the same time.

  
"Oh please. The only reason you don't want us reading them is that they're all about Cordelia."

  
"They're not."

  
Madison stood up.

  
"Sure, they're not. Maybe I should go grab your notepad and check for myself."

  
Misty clenched her fist, ready to throw Madison out of the window if she had to. Queenie placed a hand on Madison's arm, holding her back.

  
"Seriously? This sort of art is personal, Madison. I know you don't know what personal means, but sit your ass down."

  
Madison rolled her eyes but obeyed, falling back into her chair.

  
"I know what personal means. And you can be sure that I'm going to make it my personal business to get my hands on her notepad," she said as if Misty wasn't even there.

  
Misty turned around and hurried out of the kitchen. She needed to put her notepad in a secured location, maybe even put a spell on it. Cordelia would understand if she asked for her help.

  
As she entered the greenhouse, she was so deep in thought she hadn't noticed that her music had been turned down. However, she paused when she found Cordelia hunched over the table, a slight frown between her eyebrows as she focused on the thing in front of her. Misty had a small smile at the sight until she realized Cordelia was standing over her notepad. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Maybe Cordelia even heard the impact, as she suddenly looked up, and her cheeks took a pinkish color.

  
"Misty. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

  
Misty hurried to the table and closed the notepad, trapping the pencil between the pages. She pulled it to her chest.

  
"I'm so sorry," Cordelia continued. "I promise, I didn't... I only read the one you were working on..."

  
Misty didn't know what to say. Cordelia seemed embarrassed to have been caught, but she did not comment on the content of the poem.

  
"I'll just leave."

  
There was one thing Misty hated more than Cordelia feeling embarrassed, it was watching her walk away from her.

  
"No, it's... it's okay."

  
Misty let the notepad fall on the table and caught Cordelia's arm before she could walk too far away.

  
"I... it's my fault. I overreacted, I mean... If I didn't want people reading my poems I shouldn't have let it in the open."

  
She offered an apologetic if tense smile. Cordelia smiled back.

  
"For what it's worth, I thought it was very good."

  
Misty couldn't believe her ears. Her eyes grew just a bit wider with wonder.

  
"Really?"

  
"Yes. Who knew you were such a great poet?"

  
Misty blushed.

  
"Would you let me read a few others?" Cordelia asked.

  
Misty tensed up at the idea. Just because Cordelia couldn't tell this one was about her, didn't mean she wouldn't pick up on it if she read more.

  
"I don't know... Maybe... maybe I could write you a poem instead?"

  
This was equally dangerous, she knew, but at least she could work on it until she was sure it wasn't a love poem.

  
"You would do that?"

  
"Yeah, of course. I can give it a try."

  
Cordelia shrugged lightly.

  
"Great. But don't feel obligated, okay? If you don't find inspiration to write me a poem I won't feel offended."

  
Misty nodded quickly.

  
"No problem."

  
"I'll let you get back to work."

  
Cordelia walked out of the greenhouse, and Misty fell in her stool with a sigh. She reopened her notebook and read the poem again.

_Have you ever noticed how_   
_the soft petals of peonies feel?_   
_Like satin sheets I imagine._   
_The way they unfurl in the morning,_   
_like they just woke up from a pleasant dream._

_Blossoming peonies, I imagine,_   
_are a sight to behold._   
_They leave their hearts bare_   
_like I never could._   
_I'm too full of nightmares to do it._

_Evening comes, and still_   
_I can't make myself say_   
_what's in my heart._   
_I'll let the peonies tell you in my stead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter about a flower that I still don't know how to pronounce the name of!  
> I started working on my next foxxay story this morning. I'm almost done with work for this semester now, just one more test to prepare, a portfolio to finish, one last class to attend on Discord (I never thought I would ever say that but it's true, thank quarantine) and then I'll have all the time in the world to write.  
> See you tomorrow for the next chapter!


	5. Cornflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty tries to write a platonic poem for Cordelia

Misty had never ever come this close to snapping her pencil. Ever. In her entire life. Punching Madison felt less violent than what she wanted to do to this pencil. Why was it so hard to write one stupid poem for Cordelia that wasn't a love poem?

  
She scratched the beginning of the line she'd written, and looked up at the flower she had chosen. A cornflower. The least romantic flower she hadn't written about. It was all spiky, and a more aggressive shade of blue than the forget-me-nots. It should have been perfect for a very platonic poem. It wasn't.

  
There was no way to fight it. She had a notebook full of poems about Cordelia. Not for her, but about her, which was even more terrible in her mind than it really was. She thought the worst part was that Cordelia had never agreed to this, to being declined into a hundred poems.

  
Maybe now was the time to come clean, and confess the whole thing. The poems, and the other thing. Maybe do both at the same time? It wasn't so bad. Cordelia would just kick her out of her house, she would go back to leaving in her swamp. New plants to write about. Alligators to read her poems to. It would be fun.

  
Misty looked down at the paper once again. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest like never before. Time to write a masterpiece.

* * *

She'd decided to show the poem to Cordelia when she would come around after class, to work on some of the plants like she usually did. She was waiting impatiently, the neatly folded piece of paper in her sweaty hand. She'd been extra careful to spell all the words so they would be readable. She knew her handwriting was hard to read, even for herself.  
Cordelia walked in with a smile on her lips, which was a usual sight. However, she paused when she saw Misty standing by the table. Misty instantly extended the piece of paper to her.

  
"What is it?" Cordelia asked, taking the paper carefully.

  
"The poem you asked me to write to you."

  
Cordelia was stunned for a moment, the piece of paper not entirely unfolded in her hand.

  
"Misty... You didn't have to."

  
Misty tried to shrug as if it weren't a big deal.

  
"Well... I've never written for anyone before, so I hope it's okay."

  
"Thank you," Cordelia said, a wide smile spreading on her lips.

  
She opened the piece of paper, but her eyes didn't rest on the words. Instead, they seemed to slide over them quickly.

  
"Why don't you read it to me? If you don't mind."

  
Misty blushed at the request. Still, she took the piece of paper back in her hands. They were shaking, she could feel her grip on the piece of paper slipping. She cleared the throat, and after letting out a nervous breath, she read:

_Spiky cornflower is unapproachable,_   
_not without pricking your finger anyway._   
_Still, the little bee buzzes forward,_   
_and lands squarely on its soft_   
_vibrant blue petals._

_Big Supreme is hard to read,_   
_she's scarier than I remembered._   
_Still, she smiles and I know_   
_my friend hasn't gone while_   
_I was stuck away from her._

_Only time will tell if the little bee was right_   
_but I know that as long as she's by my side,_   
_I'll always have a place in her heart._

Cordelia brushed her cheek as if to clean a tear out of her eye, and pulled Misty into a hug, trapping the poem between them.

  
"Of course you'll always have a place in my heart," Cordelia assured her.

  
"I never doubted," Misty replied.

  
So maybe she hadn't made the love confession she'd wanted to make, and maybe she never would. But being away from Cordelia again would hurt too much, and she had decided she had suffered enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I don't like this poem, I don't think it's very good compared to the others, maybe because it's not very romantic. Beside Forget-Me-Not, my favorites are the three last poems of the story, but you'll have to wait a few more days to read them.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter nonetheless and I'll see you tomorrow for the next one!


	6. Passionflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty has lost her inspiration

_What weird colors you have, Passionflower._   
_All purple and yellow and green._   
_I don't know what to think of you._

Misty paused and looked back at what she had written. Unsatisfied, she picked up her eraser and rubbed out the little pencil marks with such energy that the piece of paper creased. She sighed and tried to smooth it once again, not quite succeeding.

  
This had been going on for almost a week now. Almost as soon as she had written the poem for Cordelia, in fact. It was as if she had poured the last bit of inspiration in her into that poem, and now she was empty. She couldn't come up with anything anymore. She'd tried every flower she could get her hands on, even taking a walk to the park on her own to study new flowers. From the most mundane one to the strangest, none seemed to bring back her ability to write correctly. Her latest attempt was with a passionflower she had bought from the flower shop nearby. The flower rested in a long vase, its head leaning toward Misty.

  
With a groan, Misty let go of her pencil and looked down at the notepad. She'd written about half of it. Maybe that was it, she thought. Maybe she didn't have more to say. Maybe that was how it worked? Just write until you've got nothing more to say. Like a sponge slowly letting all of its water go, one small press at a time.

  
Misty closed the notepad and picked it up, placing it under her arm as she walked back into the house. Though she hadn't heard Madison mention anything about stealing her notepad in a while, she was still wary and had taken to hiding it recently. This time, she supposed it would be for good.

  
As she crossed the entrance hall, she saw Cordelia walking down the stairs. Cordelia frowned at her sight.

  
"Misty? What are you doing out of the greenhouse so early?"

  
Misty shrugged tiredly.

"I just... I couldn't write about anything."

  
Cordelia offered her a comforting smile.

  
"I'm sure it's just a dry spell, nothing you should worry about."

  
Misty shrugged again. Writing poems was just a hobby anyway, it didn't matter that much to her, right?

  
"Maybe you're just a bit tired?" Cordelia suggested, seeing Misty's uncertainty. "You've been writing a lot lately. Maybe you should stop for a few days, then try again?"

  
Misty smiled back, tensely.

  
"Yeah, I'll try that."

  
She walked up the stairs and to her bedroom, feeling Cordelia's eyes on her as she did. She hid the notepad under her mattress and fell into bed with a sigh. She hoped she could start writing again after a nap, but somehow the anxious ball in her chest told her the opposite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Is it cheating if technically there's a poem but it's just three lines long? I think it is but at the same time I couldn't find the meaning of the passionflower online, beside the fact that it's somehow related to the passion of the Christ and that is not romantic at all. I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit short but the next few ones will be longers (and with better poems).  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed today's drabble and I'll see you tomorrow for the next one.


	7. Dahlia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordelia decides to help Misty find her inspiration again.

Unfortunately for Misty, inspiration did not return. More days of fruitless writing followed until Misty gave up completely. Poetry writing wasn't for her, and it never would be. It was just a hobby of the moment, she didn't need it anymore, she felt better, so it had served its purpose and that was all there was.

  
She stopped taking her notepad around with her, and she spent more time in the greenhouse, taking care of the plants, planting new ones and growing more and more varieties under the glass building. Cordelia didn't comment on it, at first, but it reached a point where people could barely move around in the greenhouse anymore. That was when she decided to do something about it. That was how Misty found herself seated on the passenger seat of Cordelia's car, a flowerpot on her lap containing a pink dahlia, and a few more pots at the back and in the trunk.

  
"Where are we goin', miss Cordelia?"

  
Cordelia had been driving on the same dirt road for a while now, in complete silence. The pots in the back jumped and bumped into each other, but none had been broken yet.

  
"Well, since the greenhouse is a bit overcrowded as of right now," Cordelia said with a glance toward Misty, "I thought we would plant some of these somewhere else."

  
After a few twists and turns, the car stopped half a mile from Misty's old shack. Misty was stunned to see it at first. She hadn't been back there since Cordelia's ex-husband had tried to kill her and Myrtle. She could instantly tell that the shack had seen better days, and she could barely imagine the state of the garden.

  
"Why here?" Misty asked with a frown.

  
"I think you need a little break from the greenhouse. And who knows, maybe your inspiration will return in the process?"

  
They spent the afternoon there together, working on restoring Misty's garden together. Some of the plants couldn't be saved, while others had spread far from their original position, taking over a large chunk of the garden. Once some space was made, Misty added each new plant with care, making sure they would feel at home in this strange humid land.

  
The trip back was a different kind of silence, less tense and more enjoyable. A pile of empty flowerpots clanked in the trunk with every bump the car drove over, seemingly counting the passing of time until they made it home.

  
"Thank you," Misty said, looking over at Cordelia. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

  
Cordelia dared a look away from the road and toward Misty, a smile on her lips.

  
"No problem. We'll come back in a few weeks, see how they're doing."

  
Misty hummed in agreement.

  
"Do you feel inspiration coming back?"

  
Misty sighed as she shrugged.

  
"Don't know. We're gonna have to wait and see."

* * *

That evening as Misty made it back to her bedroom, she pulled the notepad from under her bed. She sat down on her bed, picked up a pencil, and opened the notepad. She'd barely placed the pencil lead on the piece of paper that she began to scribble swiftly.

_Dahlia, Dahlia, for every afternoon you bloom_   
_I feel my gloom fading away._   
_For every look you give me,_   
_I feel the air coming back to my lungs._   
_I fear the day you will no longer care_   
_about me and my sadness._   
_I can't ask you to stop living_   
_to help me with my misery._   
_But I'll cherish every moment_   
_you will give me, be it a second of your day._   
_Delia, Delia don't you know,_   
_that when you think of me once in a while,_   
_it is already enough?_   
_I don't need more, just a thought from you,_   
_to make me grow back into the flower I forgot I was,_   
_and you remembered for me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am very excited today, because of the writing I did yesterday! As you may know I'm working on my next foxxay story and I basically wrote the best foxxay scene I ever wrote yesterday, but I can't talk about it because that would spoil the story, so all I can do right now is spread my excitment for no reason at all!  
> Anyway, today's chapter was a bit longer than usual, so should the next few ones if I remember correctly, cause that's what happened when you suddenly give a plot to your story, I suppose. I hope you enjoyed today's chapter and I will see you tomorrow for the next one!


	8. Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misty is finally ready to write a love declaration.

Misty had walked to the park on her own again. She needed to get away, but not from the greenhouse. From Cordelia. She didn't want to be bothered while she worked on this new poem. It would be special. She would write it down, then walk back to the school, and read it to Cordelia. And after that, she would ask her out. She was ready. She'd written hundreds of love poems for Cordelia at this points, it would be easy. And then, just invite her out on a date – Misty reminded herself that she needed to plan the date in question before asking Cordelia out – and it would be fine. The only way it could go wrong was if Cordelia refused. Then, she supposed she would just have to move back into her shack and burn all of her poems. No big deal.

  
Misty wanted to sit by the forget-me-nots, let them inspire her again, but the bench and nearby grass were already taken, by a group of loud teenagers. Instead, she continued to walk until she was as far away as she could from everyone else. Then, she sat down in the grass, among the daisies. She pulled her notepad out of her satchel, her pencil still marking the page, and she got to writing.

_Cordelia, there are a thousand ways I could tell you_   
_how much you make my heart beat._   
_A little, when I think about your smile._   
_A lot, when you're next to me._   
_Passionately, when you look at me._   
_To madness, when you leave my sight._   
_Then, this whole circus starts again._   
_A little, when I feel your eyes on me._   
_A lot, when I hear your voice say my name._   
_Passionately, when you take my hand._   
_To madness, when I realize I still can't kiss you._   
_Would you allow me that, I wonder?_   
_A kiss on your cheek, one on your nose,_   
_one on your lips, if you wish._   
_I promise I'll be careful,_   
_like a butterfly landing on a daisy._   
_Let me put an end to this torture,_   
_and officially give you my heart,_   
_so you can properly toy with it._

* * *

Misty's entire being was trembling, the piece of paper in front of her. She'd worked on it all afternoon, it was perfect. Everything would be just fine. But what if Cordelia didn't love her back? And what if she did? She should have pulled on a few daisies before leaving the park, maybe they would have had the answer.

  
Cordelia walked in with her usual grand strides, ready to try to save the withering flower bushes in the garden. She stopped when she found Misty standing by the table, looking positively sick.

  
"Misty, are you okay?"

  
Misty quickly picked up the piece of paper in front of her, crumbling it into her fist and stuffing the ball in her pocket.

  
"Yeah... I'm fine..."

  
"You look a bit pale."

  
Misty tried to wave Cordelia's concerns away.

  
"It's probably nothing... I must have... I must be a bit dehydrated, you know... Spent the afternoon at the park and forgot to bring a water bottle with me. Silly me."

  
Cordelia looked her up and down again.

  
"Maybe you should go get a glass of water. You know what, stay here, I'll bring you something to drink."

  
Before Cordelia could move Misty made her way around her and toward the door.

  
"Nah, I got this. You're right... I'll go grab a drink, and then I'll come and help you, okay?"

  
"Only if you're feeling up to it," Cordelia replied.

  
"Yeah, don't worry."

  
Misty hurried out of the greenhouse, so quickly Cordelia feared she would faint from the sudden movement. Misty had never been angrier with herself. She was acting like a coward. What had so suddenly gotten into her?

  
Once in the kitchen she pulled a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. She drank until she'd drown the little voice in her head. Then, she reluctantly threw the poem in the trash, biting her lip anxiously as she watched the ball of paper land. She ignored the ache in her heart and walked away.

  
Madison walked out of the dining room and into the kitchen, quickly opening the trash can. She fished out the ball of paper with a disgusted groan and returned to the dining room with the ball trapped between two fingers.

  
"Since when do you pick things out of the trash?" Queenie asked, watching as Madison sat down and began unfurling the piece of paper.

  
"Since Swampy has started throwing her love declarations to the trash."

  
"It's not a love declaration," Queenie replied with an eye roll, "probably just a poem about mud or something."

  
Madison focused on every letter, trying to deciphering Misty's handwriting. Then, she smirked.

  
"Oh really? Then why does it start with 'Cordelia there are a thousand ways I could tell you how much you make my heart beat.'?"

  
Queenie's eyes grew wide.

  
"No way!"

  
Madison handed the crumpled piece of paper to her, and Queenie read through it quickly.

  
"Damn, why did she throw it away?"

  
"Cause she's gonna need a little push if she's ever going to dare ask Cordie out."

  
Queenie gave Madison a suspicious look.

  
"What are you gonna do with this?"

  
"This one? Nothing. But I bet she's got a bunch of others in her notepad. All I need is one of them and an envelope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Madison is just like us, she's tired of seeing this two pinning over each other...  
> Anyway, yeah, I never planned for Madison to take on such a big role at first, but then I thought "why let that thread of her wanting to see what Misty's writing lead to nothing?" so here we go. Get ready cause tomorrow is gonna be full of fluff. So I'll see you then!


	9. Poppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madison executes her plan flowlessly

Cordelia was hunched over paperwork in her office when she heard a knock on the door. She looked up, and found Madison standing in the doorway, an envelope held up between two fingers.

  
"Got a letter from you."

  
Cordelia frowned.

  
"From who?"

  
Madison shrugged.

  
"Don't know. I found it lying around in the kitchen and it's got your name on it."

  
Cordelia found this rather suspicious. Madison added with a sigh of annoyance:

  
"Do you want it or not? Cause if you don't I'm gonna burn it."

  
"Fine, give it here."

  
Madison brought the letter, placing it in Cordelia's hand, and walked away without another word. It was a red envelope with her name written in big letters on the front. She couldn't quite recognize the handwriting on it. She looked back up to where Madison had been standing not long ago. The younger witch wasn't known for delivering things on other people's behalf. She wouldn't be surprised if Madison had already read the content of the envelope.

  
She turned it around. The letter wasn't sealed, the flap had simply been folded inside the envelope. She opened and pulled out the content. It was a simple piece of paper, folded to fit inside. She unfolded it. The handwriting was hard to read, but between it and the paper itself, she knew it was one of Misty's poems. She didn't take the time to bother why Misty had put one of her poems in an envelope addressed to her. She started reading quickly.

_I wish I could speak, but my lips are sealed._   
_My heart is too weak for you and too weak_   
_to help me say my peace._   
_This love is killing me, little by little,_   
_like burning, again and again, every day._   
_I wish I could get rid of it, never love you again,_   
_and I wish I would stop wishing for death._   
_I should prefer it to life, because then_   
_I would stop loving you for nothing,_   
_but you are alive and I can't bring myself_   
_to be anywhere, anyone, anything without you._   
_I would take you to a field of red,_   
_and when you see all the flowers growing there_   
_I would whisper 'they're my love for you',_   
_each petal a piece of my heart,_   
_finally bared for you to understand._   
_But I know that's a lie._   
_I would show you the field and say_   
_'Those flowers are nice'_   
_and you would never see that they've grown_   
_out of my shredded soul._

Cordelia stared at the poem longly. Something told her she was not supposed to read this. Still, she read through it again. This was just a prank Madison was pulling on her. There wasn't a single reference to the fact that this poem was about her. God, she wished it were about her.

  
A blush crept over her cheeks. This was Misty's handwriting, and the paper from her notepad, there was no way she hadn't written it. Cordelia flipped the paper, looking for another indication that she truly was meant to have this poem. She found nothing. She stood up, picking up the poem, and walked out of her office in search of Madison.

  
She heard her voice first, shouting from the kitchen.

  
"I did not touch your damn notepad!"

  
When Cordelia walked into the kitchen, she found Madison and Misty facing each other. She quickly hid the piece of paper behind her back and approached the two witches.

  
"What is going on here?" she asked.

  
Misty looked at her pleadingly, while Madison had a smirk on her lips.

  
"Cordelia, please tell Emily Dickinson over here that I didn't touch her stupid notepad."

  
Misty glared at Madison, then looked at Cordelia anxiously.

  
"One of my poems is missing," she explained.

  
Cordelia pursed her lips. She could feel her heart fluttering just a bit faster in her chest.

  
"Come on," she decided, wrapping her free hand around Misty to pull her away. "I'm sure it's fine. Madison would never touch your notepad."

  
She pulled Misty along but took the time to turn around to glare at Madison, who gave her a smirk before walking away.

  
She led Misty to the greenhouse. Once she was inside, she walked back to her notepad to check it again.

  
"I promise, Cordelia, I didn't misplace it, I worked on it yesterday, it should have been right here."

  
Cordelia sighed.

  
"I know."

  
She pulled the piece of paper out from behind her back and placed it on the table.

  
"I think Madison tried to prank me. She put it in an envelope, tried to make me think she found it in the kitchen."

  
All the colors had drained from Misty's face. She picked up the poem quickly and read through it. Cordelia couldn't tell if she was relieved to have the poem returned to her, or mortified to hear that Cordelia had it in her possession. She tried to reassure her:

  
"It's really good. I didn't know you wrote love poems."

  
Misty smoothed the piece of paper and placed it on the table with a blush on her entire face.

  
"Yeah, sometimes... when I can't keep it in..."

  
"You must have pretty strong feelings for... whoever you're writing for," Cordelia said, her voice wavering.

  
Misty cleared her throat before pushing the words past her lips.

  
"I do... I just kinda wish I knew if you liked me back."

  
Cordelia blinked as the words sank into her mind. A part of her was ecstatic to hear the poem was for her, all of it, every word of it. She looked into Misty's blue eyes, which nervously looked away from her face.

  
"I do," she finally managed to reply. "I just thought you didn't..."

  
Misty's eyes grew wide as her jaw slackened.

  
"I? But you... I thought you..."

  
"How in the world could I not fall for you, Misty?" Cordelia asked.

  
Misty was stunned silent.

  
"I... I mean..."

  
Cordelia chuckled at the taller witch's sudden lack of words.

  
"For someone who wrote such passionated poems..."

  
Misty found she had nothing else to say. Instead, she stepped forward until she was close enough to kiss her, but kept her lips inches from hers. Cordelia's heart jumped to her throat. She dared to place a hand on Misty's shoulder. Misty was staring down at her.

  
"Are you gonna kiss me now?" Cordelia asked.

  
Misty decided she'd said enough, she'd written enough. Now was time for action. She leaned in, sealing their lips in a kiss that melted every fiber of her body. So maybe she'd found something else to fuel her poetry now, she could barely think about it with Cordelia's mouth on hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! There's just one chapter left for tomorrow, a sort of happy epilogue, if you will.  
> I'm finishing the last few chapters of my next foxxay story, which I should start posting on Monday, if I can find a good title for it. I swear it's the first time that I can't find a good title for a story, and it is very annoying. Plus the space bar on my keyboard is slowly giving up on life, so that's cool...  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I will see you tomorrow for the conclusion!


	10. Bluebell

Misty reclined more comfortably on the blanket under them, her head resting on Cordelia's belly. Cordelia pushed herself enough just to see Misty place the notepad beside her. Then, she leaned back down, and let her fingers thread through Misty's messy locks, brushing through them slowly.

  
"How were the flowers today?" Cordelia asked.

  
"Very nice," Misty replied. "They gave me a lot of inspiration."

  
One of Cordelia's hands moved to reach for the notepad.

  
"Can I read?"

  
Misty shrugged.

  
"Okay, but at loud. I want to hear you read it."

  
Cordelia smiled and picked up the notepad. She flipped through familiar poems until she found the new one Misty had written. Her handwriting was still as atrocious as before, but now that Cordelia was used to it, she could read it more easily.

  
She cleared her throat and began reading.

_I hear the bells chiming away,_   
_the end of an era and the beginning,_   
_the burial of my loneliness,_   
_the birth of my never-ending happiness._   
_Tiny bells, ring for every good moment of my life:_   
_The first time she kissed me,_   
_The first time she said she loved me,_   
_The first time she wrapped her arms around me,_   
_Never stop ringing,_   
_not until the last of our laughter_   
_has been carried away by time._   
_And when you fall off your stem,_   
_grow back more vibrant,_   
_and start ringing again,_   
_signal that our love is eternal._

Cordelia placed the notepad back on the blanket with a smile. Her free hand reached for Misty's, who let her lace their fingers together.

  
"Your poems are getting better every time," she complimented her. "Maybe we should call Stevie, show her some of your work. You two could work on a song together."

  
Misty blushed and shook her head.

  
"No way. That would be humiliating."

  
Cordelia comforted her with a gentle caress of her hair.

  
"As the main subject of most of your poems, I refute this accusation."

  
"You say that because you love that I write poems about you."

  
"I do."

  
Misty turned her head to look at her girlfriend.

  
"I like writing poems just for you, no one else."

  
"Fine. I'll keep all your talent for myself."

  
Misty smiled. She sat up and leaned forward, pressing a kiss on Cordelia's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this story! Seeing that so many of you have actually liked it makes me feel better about writing it, that it was probably better than I initially thought it was. So thank you all for reading it to the end and for letting me know how much you liked this story!  
> As I mentioned yesterday I should start posting a new foxxay story tomorrow. Maybe I've found a good title, jury's still up for now, but even if I don't find that perfect title I want I'll start posting it tomorrow. Now don't be scared, it's 22 chapters long, but it's also finished so you don't have to be afraid, I will post every single chapter :)  
> Again, thank you so much for reading it till the end. Now if you'll excuse me, I intent to make full use of my no-writing day by playing video games all day! Bye guys!


End file.
